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Georgie gives a chortled laugh of glee, and something about it makes my chest ease. This is why I called her—she knows them so precisely and she just doesn’t care.
“Oh my God, he issuchan asshole! He was really pissed about what Fabian said to him at the wedding. I bet he’s been plotting his revenge ever since. Yuck. I think he does that with everyone we go out with. He had Brad investigated too. Did you knuckle under like you normally do?”
I turn out of the driveway onto the long road that leads out of their gated community. I’m not offended by this, not even a little. We all know the roles we play. Georgie has told me how my obedience allowed her to be more of a rebel, that she relished the heat of their focus and their anger. She’s hated them for a long time, what they did to her, how it’s made her always question her own motives—whether she’s doing something to rebel against them or conform—and I know it messes with her head.
“Jesus, no way! I want it so much, G.”
And ice bites into my skin. I do. I really do. Despite all the problems, the worry about my career, whether I can hack all the pressure, the idea of Fabian and I having a child together fills me with white heat and sunshine. Like an extension of the lightness that invades me every time I’m with him. Watching his face deep in thought about some problem, watching his eyes flick over the code rolling down his screen, watching his long fingers that do delicious things to my body or tap a rhythm against the desktop as he waits for code to compile.
“Well, I’m impressed, sis. Despite the fact you were the good kid and I wasn’t, you’ve no idea how much I hated watching them manipulate you into their agenda. I wish I’d been there to see this.”
I laugh at this. “And my God, I wanted you there.”
“Nah, I would have been too cross and waded in. I bet you did it in your own calm way. I bet you took them apart with medical precision.”
“Not exactly. I think Mom’s the expert there. She kept talking about how the baby ‘wasn’t a person’.”
Georgie gives a hoarse laugh. “Oh God, as if anyone could really think that about something so emotional. She’s like a fucking robot. That calm logic thing she does? I could never deal with it. The only way I could escape the pressure she put on me to conform is to use no logic at all.”
Those were her tactics? Georgie and Mom always butted heads, whereas Mom and I often seemed to see things in a similar fashion. I used to wonder about Georgie’s wild arguments and flying off the handle. They were a ploy she used to escape the control?
“I didn’t realize you did that deliberately.”
“I’m not sure I understood that that was what I was doing when I was younger; it was just how I used to escape from all the things they tried to get me to do. I’ve only realized it recently.” She pauses. “What are you going to do about the parents?”
A large splat of rain lands on the windscreen, followed by another, and I peer upward at the darkening sky. I take a deep breath. I’m pregnant. I’m their daughter. Their behavior on that basis alone was unforgivable. I’m generally a peacemaker, but it will take a long time to repair the wounds of that last conversation.
“Nothing, absolutely nothing. I’m ignoring any calls or other methods of communication. They said they were disappointed in me, and I told them they weren’t as disappointed as I was. When this baby is born, they are going to have to suck up to me something rotten if they want to see their grandchild.”
Georgie laughs. “You’re a tiger under that compliant behavior. They owe you a fucking apology, Kate.”
That’s what I called her for, and the tension seeps out of me with the idea that I’m not being a difficult child or making a terrible mistake.
“I’m not holding my breath for that, but watch this space.”
33
Kate
“My father has been digging into you,” I say quietly into the warm patterned skin of Fabian’s back in bed later.
From what Jo has told me, I think anyone would have a hard time tracking Fabian, but the words “work that is treasonable” keep popping into my head, niggling away, like my dad knew it would. The manipulative bastard. I don’t know much about what Fabian does, although I think he’s been nothing but honest with me.
Fabian sighs. “I know he has.”
My heart lifts at this simple statement.
“You do?”
“He used a useless investigator to do it too,” Fabian rumbles on as if I haven’t spoken. “I made sure he found some nonsense information that was supposedly difficult to access. What did he tell you?”
His bedroom is cool and dark, dim light filtering around the side of the blinds, and he rolls onto his back and tucks me into him as I fill him in on everything my father said—omitting the part where he said he was a loser.
Fabian snorts. “He’s an asshole saying shit like that to you, Kate.”
“Have you done work for the Russians?” I ask.
He pauses for far too long and sighs.
